teen gothic

that imagined space you’d
take up here if you were here
when it’s chill night and your blond ghost’s
infrared and real and I could grab you now

before at last
you’re finally gone
and the wind
stops and your accident hasn’t happened yet

when you fling your face
into the cold water of chance and breathe
it tears my lungs, too, and your facades are

printing everywhere
printing on me
that intimacy we knew
before we met and infinitely diverged